Every Scylding in Heorot liked mead a lot,
But Grendel the beast, roaring outside did not.
Grendel hated Scyldings, the whole Danish clan.
Can I say why? I don’t think I can.
He spied on the Scyldings, he fumed and he wailed.
He watched as in Heorot they drank mead and drank ale.
“How can I hurt them, the king and his thanes?”
Alone in his barrow, it drove him insane.
Then he got an idea! An awful idea!
Grendel got a horrible, awful idea!
That fiendish old monster was up to no good.
He decided to kill them and gorge on their blood.
Outside the mead-hall, Cain-spawn raged and he roared,
And with his great strength he broke down the door.
The Scyldings lined up, their swords in a row.
“You warriors,” cried Grendel, “are the first ones to go.”
He slaughtered the Danes, ripped many apart.
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